Twelve Days
by roulette rouge
Summary: It took twelve days for him to notice her. After all, he was chasing after a girl he could never have. But it only took nine days of persistance and months of friendship for her to fall in love with him. Chekov/Uhura. Slight AU.


_Day One_

Chekov liked Christine Chapel. No, not just like, perhaps what the American colloquial deemed it – a crush. No, no…that wasn't it either. It was love. The kind which angels sung of and coveted in heaven, with their gold, ruby-tasseled trumpets and long, flowing flaxen locks.

If only it was requited.

He saw his chance, to talk to her for the first time, actual word to word contact, as she walked by – alone. At first, Uhura was quite perplexed by her friend's odd behavior but, as Scotty nudged the Lieutenant and pointed to the lovely, platinum-blonde haired woman walking by and Chekov nearly tripping over his coltish legs trying to follow after her, she had to suppress a laugh.

Scotty, however, was not so kind in respect to Chekov's star-crossed love for Nurse Chapel – he laughed aloud, and nearly choked on his scotch.

"Excuse me there, Miss Chapel. I couldn't help noticing how you are pretty, and hoped that maybe-"

And as she turned on her heel, her nose suspended so high in the air that Chekov wondered if she would get a nosebleed, Scotty began to drown in his scotch-induced laughter.

But Uhura was not so cruel – in fact, she glowered at the guffawing Scotsman and clobbered him over the head with her empty tray. Sulu shook his head and mutedly congratulated Uhura on her silencing the unruly Scotsman.

Chekov retreated to the table, and eased down into the bench across from a recovering Scotty, who nursed the growing lump on his head with a look of confusion on his face.

"I will get her next time." Chekov vowed, and stole the remainder of scotch right from under Scotty's nose.

* * *

_Day Two_

It took only a day for Chekov to recuperate from his failed rendezvous with Christine. In fact, Uhura was surprised at the young Ensign's pluck, when it came to tenacity and the boy's perpetual wanderlust for life and its unfounded discoveries. And as Uhura, Scotty and this time Kirk all gathered around the table, they watched Christine Chapel appear at the door, parting with another crewman as they bid farewell and carried on with their separate agendas.

"Oh, there she comes!" Chekov beamed.

"The nurse?" Kirk chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "Oh man, Chekov…don't tell me you've got a secret fetish for hospital porn…"

"Why, you got some hidden under your bed? Are you inviting to share it with him, Captain?" Uhura quipped lightly.

Kirk shrugged lightly and scoffed. "No, of course not. You see that..." He paused, shaking his finger at her. "Would be irresponsible. Exposing a kid like Chekov to pornography....and well, I've got a lot of things under my bed, but…since there are young, virgin ears at this table. I'd better not go into it."

"Time for round two already, lad?" Scotty's face began to adopt a tangible red hue as he swallowed back a laugh. "Didn't ye get shot down enough on round one?"

Uhura clenched her jaw and stamped her foot down on the engineer's spit-polished, black boot. Scotty emitted a small yelp and shot a glare as cruel as daggers at the Lieutenant.

"What should I say…Keptin, you are good with the ladies. What is it I should say to keep her attention?"

Kirk smirked at him. "Are you really, positively sure you want my advice? I think we might have different views on women, you know…you being jailbait and me being well…more practiced.."

"Hurry, Keptin. She comes!" Chekov pointed toward the girl, who was already half-way down the aisle.

"You asked for it, Ensign," Kirk warned, and pulled the young, bright face toward him, whispering something into his ear. Uhura leaned forward, hoping to catch even a small portion of what wisdom the Captain was imparting to poor, innocent Chekov.

But by the time she had caught one word, much too muffled and incoherent to really be translated as much of anything but muttered gibberish, even in her expertise with language and communication, Chekov was on his feet, smoothing out the front of his goldenrod uniform top, and had practically leapt in front of Chapel. She crossed her arms and seemed on the verge of rolling her eyes, but Chekov stopped her before she could complete the frustrated motion.

"Wait, before you tell me with your eye that you hate my guts and wish me dead on the floor, stomping me like they used to do in Russian with the annual grape-crushing winefest…yes, it is true and inwented in Russia," he paused to clear his throat, minding his posture. "Allow me to speak!"

After his longwinded exclamation, Christine had been too concentrated on every bit of accented and nearly unintelligible drivel, to which she had just been subjected, and Chekov was allowed a moment to gather his wits and repeat the line he was given.

"You are a nurse, Miss Chapel. Nyet?" Chekov began.

"Yes, I am a nurse…" Christine reacted simply, merely drawing one eyebrow in one fluid upward motion in response to Chekov's unanticipated inquiry.

"And you have taken necessary classes for it?" Chekov persisted.

"Is this going somewhere, because I'm in desperate need of tequila after listening to all this…"

"Wait, wait…it comes…" Chekov held out an assuaging hand to her, and then took one small, cleansing breath to clear the surges of tension from his system. And as he straightened up, his eye shimmered playfully as he said, "I hope you have mastered the CPR, because you take my breath away."

Christine, without saying one word, shoved the young Russian out of her way and continued toward the bar at the opposite end of the Mess Hall. Uhura was sure, by now, that Chekov would be wilted, like a small puppy kicked one too many times. But as he turned to face his small audience, two of which being Kirk and Scotty, who began wheezing and chortling without allay over their trays and beer, the communcations officer was surprised to find him unruffled. Not an ounce of the girl's weighty, and unspoken, refusal was transcribed across his young face; Uhura was pleasantly surprised and, needless to say, impressed.

"Oh sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph…I'd pay one hundred pounds to see that again!" Scotty gasped between breaths, small dewdrops of tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

"That was a good one…damn, I'm good!" Kirk administered a gesture of acceptance as the boy came nearer, clouting Chekov on the back. "Kid, you are something else..."

"She'll come around, she will," Chekov claimed, looking undaunted by the girl's rejection. "A Russian is never rejected by woman, not for long!"

* * *

_Day Three_

On the third day, Spock had reluctantly joined the rather raucous trio. And upon hearing Chekov's inability to woo and win the affections of the lovely Christine, his interest was piqued.

"Fascinating," Spock tilted his head softly to the side, his dark eyes glittering. "The mating rituals of Earth are most certainly endearing, notably the gaucherie and unstable vital signs which stimulate the adolescent male affection for his female."

"Aye, but Chekov here…the lad makes himself a fool and he doesn't know it!"

Uhura merely launched a spitball at the doubting Scotsman, and didn't say a word, didn't even endeavor to afflict the high-spirited Scot with a glower – she merely suppressed a grin behind firmly tightened lips, and felt the heat of Scotty's glare pass over her face.

"Russian men do not know foolishness. They are irresistible, and Miss Chapel will know it before our encounter of today is ended! I will not fail my people's customs – nyet, I won't!"

Yes, Uhura was mildly impressed now by the persistence of the spirited young Russian. Most men, after two refusals, one of which being the result of a poorly executed pick up line, would have given up by then. But no – not Chekov. Nyet might have been in his Russian dictionary, but Uhura knew nyet and no had complexly diverse meanings.

"Might I offer a logical suggestion, Ensign Chekov?"

"Aye commander, anything you are suggesting would be helpful to my cause." Chekov chewed and spoke at the same time and, while most would find this distasteful, Uhura found it endearing and comical. At least, when it was the gutsy Russian talking.

Again, Chekov leaned in to receive the proposition, and his face brightened considerably with the appearance of a smile. "Da! That may do it!"

"Here's your chance, laddie. Make it good." Scotty smothered the sneaky little bubble of hilarity that had surfaced in his stomach as Christine Chapel, already rolling her eyes, came walking down the aisle. Chekov was there in a heartbeat, standing in front of her, obstructing her way.

"Look, Russian whizkid, I have some guys I'm meeting for drinks, so let's make this rejection quick and painless and in words you can comprehend. Nyet."

Uhura already didn't like this Chapel girl. The way she was stomping all over Chekov's perky attempts to woo her without any regard for his feelings was terribly cruel. Not that Chekov's feelings really suffered, but still…she didn't prefer it.

"Wait, I have logical explanation for us today!"

Christine sighed heavily and shifted her weight onto her right foot.

"Okay, so. You are a woman."

"Obviously."

"I am a man…well, da…sort of."

"Get on with it, kid."

"Woman and man. Logic says that if attraction is in one, then there must be magnetic pull which drives man to woman. This means within woman, there is same magnetic pull. And the inertia, by man is being pulled, is equal to that of rejection of woman. This means that attraction is constant until I run out of ideas to woo you or you give up and succumb to my wooing. The first being impossible, you must relent, or inertia will catch you! This accords to Newton's First Law of Motion, or Law of Inertia."

Scotty was turning as scarlet as a fresh tomato as he bent over his scotch glass and tried desperately not to yield to the hilarity of the doomed situation. But as Christine Chapel walked away, her heels tapping against the floor and slowly tapering into the surrounding commotion of the room, Scotty couldn't hold it in anymore. His stifled laugh erupted from his mouth in winded gust, and he banged his fist against the table until Uhura duly noted the unsatisfactory reaction on behalf of the engineer and took matters into her own hands to stop it. As routine, she lifted her foot off the ground and proceeded to imprint the design on the bottom of her shoe onto Scotty's polished boot. The engineer choked on his laughter and Uhura watched as the sprightly young Ensign shook his shoulders, quickly recovering from failed attempt number three, and took a seat next to her. Uhura was now not only impressed - but inspired.

"I extend my apologies, Ensign," Spock said. "The complexities of human nature and their resistance of logic still tend to escape me."

"Da, well…I will conquer tomorrow! Like Alexander the Great!"

* * *

_Day Four_

By day four, Bones was sitting with the trio, with Spock and Kirk bantering with Sulu as their third companion some seats away, Spock, of course, refusing to be emotionally compromised by human slipshod attempts to anger him, and Kirk saying everything he could to conjure some intimation of anger from the stoic Commander.

In hearing the three former attempts to pursue his best nurse, Bones snorted and a complacent smirk edged the corners of his mouth. "Nice try, kid. She's too old for you – she'd get arrested for just looking at you, let alone go on any semblance of a date with you."

"I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen in matters of months!"

"Could have fooled me."

Uhura was beginning to doubt Chekov's mortality. If it were her facing a snobbish man, she'd would have lost interest long ago – probably after attempt three. And yet still the Russian persisted, eager to please the woman and win her affections. Uhura was beginning to think she didn't deserve the vivacious boy's fondness. Not the way she was treating him, like dirt beneath her perfectly polished shoes.

"Someone should make a movie out of this," Scotty snickered over his processed beef stew. "They could show it te the youngsters back at the Academy – call it "What Not Te Do When Ye Have a Crush on an Older Crewmate"."

Scotty nearly surrendered to the hilarity of the situation, but one look at the expression on Uhura's face smothered all interest in any expression of mirth.

"Is she coming yet, Uhura?" Chekov's bright eyes turned to her, and Uhura smiled softly.

"Not yet…" She assured him.

Bones nudged the boy gently. "Want my advice, kid?"

"Da, doctor?"

"Back home, we got this saying – if you mess with the bull, you get the horns."

"_Izvi'nite_?" Chekov's young face puckered with a whole slew of incoming inquiries after the strange Southern saying.

"C'mere," Bones said and beckoned the young Ensign toward him. Chekov willingly leaned into the doctor, and the older man imparted a bit of whispered wisdom into his ear. Uhura had already given up on trying to listen in – it was worthless because she never heard a damn thing, not to mention it was time wasting, and she was supposed to be watching out for Christine anyway. For Chekov, of course – she'd do anything to help the Russian win his girl, no matter how audaciously cruel she was toward him. Because he wanted her, Uhura wanted him to have her.

"Did'ya get that?" Bones pulled away, and Chekov gave an enthusiastic nod in reply.

"Here comes yer leading lady." Scotty smirked, and slurped another spoonful of his stew as Chekov stood up to his full height, sucked in a cleansing, calming breath, and stepped into the aisle way.

Christine, looking slightly outraged, halted in her tracks. "What's it today, peewee? Logic, pick up lines-"

"You listen to me, girlie, and you listen good! I know you just trying to excuse away a good man like me, and it's not gonna work! I won't take no for an answer!" He wagged his finger at her, knitting his brow in what Uhura guessed to be a failed endeavor for contempt. "You hear me, girlie? I say I won-"

But before Chekov could finish his already doomed fourth attempt at wooing Christine Chapel, she raised her arm, flattened her palm, and whacked the young, unsuspecting Ensign across the cheek. She glowered at him for a moment before the habitual sound of her heels clacking against the hard tile floor resonated off the walls. Uhura, angered by the girl's outrageous reaction, stood from her bench, teeth clenched, hands gathered into a tight, round fist, and looking as if she were about ready to ignore the laws of feminine morality and give Christine Chapel a good clobbering in the face. That would teach her to disrespect poor, eager Chekov!

Scotty, by now, was howling in his seat, banging his fist against the table as he fought to breathe. Bones watched with a quirked brow as Uhura rushed to the Ensign's side and inspected his reddened cheek, after successfully prying the nurturing hand away from the inflicted skin. It was red, and she knew it would be bruised, but other than his wounded pride – he was alright.

Uhura was sure he'd had enough by now.

"Well, that was rather unexpected – she always said she liked it rough."

"I dun' think that a verbal lashing was what she was referring to, doctor." Scotty panted between cackles.

"You don't think I know that?" Bones snapped at the winded Scotsman. And as Chekov looked expectantly at Bones, a cold cup of water pressed to his cheek by a nursing Uhura, Bones threw up his hands and said, "What are you looking at me like that for?! I'm a doctor, not a dating service!"

"Da, well…I'll get her tomorrow." Chekov sighed.

Uhura marveled at the boy's persistence.

* * *

_Day Five_

Today, Sulu decided to join the rowdy trio as Spock and Kirk had spent the entirety of yesterday's dinner hour glaring over their stew and, out of nowhere, spouting off into relentless arguments. Most had been completely off the mark and he hardly knew where they came from. And so, with Spock making his rounds and Kirk putting the moves on some girl she'd never laid eyes on before, he decided to eat with Chekov on invitation – he always thought the Russian was the cutest thing since porcelain dolls.

It was not long before Scotty unleashed the story of Chekov's ceaseless efforts to win over the love of his short life, and Sulu was immediately intrigued.

"Oh, well, in that case, Chekov…who's the lucky girl?" Sulu smiled at him, and nudged him softly as he sat next to him, with Chekov shoving spoonfuls of mashed potatoes into his cupid bow's mouth, so small and yet so supple and pink.

Uhura wanted to sustain Chekov's dignity, and attempted to help the poor boy, but he put down his spoon and extended a calming hand.

"I am not shy, she will be mine soon!" Chekov said, and cleared his throat.

"Christine Chapel, huh? Well, I've got some advice for you, because I know what Christine really likes..."

"Da?"

"Of course. It's what any girl likes…" Sulu assured him. "Actually, I know for a fact that ninety percent of girls are attracted to the idea of poetry. It's a universal statistic. I've used it on a lot of girls before."

With his interest piqued, Chekov's eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas tree. Uhura couldn't help but grin at the boy's gusto even in the face of certain dismissal. "So, will you tell me, da?"

"Of course, come here…" Sulu whispered it into Chekov's ear, and Chekov nodded his head absently as he processed the information he was given. Uhura watched as Christine Chapel arrived, same time as usual, and began her nightly trip down the aisle way. She hated to say it, and disliked the idea of hating someone, but it was hard not to hold a person in contempt when they treated Pavel Chekov, the most illuminating and cheerful little thing in the world, like she did.

"Can you remember all that?" Sulu asked, and Chekov nodded buoyantly.

"I have photographic memory. Remembering is not trouble for me."

"Here she comes, Romeo. Sweep her off her feet!" Scotty encouraged, a simmer of a laugh behind his heartening guise.

Chekov halted the girl and, before she could retaliate with quick, snapping words, he knelt on one knee, extended his arm, and cleared his throat. Christine looked at him oddly but, interested now that he had gone to such outlandish lengths to impress her, stood still.

_Roses are red,  
Violets are blue,  
Honey is sweet,  
But not as sweet as you._

"Adorable…"Christine snorted, and walked past the kneeling Russian, who looked around dazedly as he opened his eyes to find the space where his love had been, moments before, missing from her spot. It took all of Scotty's willpower not to collapse on the floor laughing, but he was fortunately saved by an obliging Uhura, who whacked him over the head with her spoon, and by the time Chekov had risen from his kneeling stature, he was already too busy rubbing the growing knot on his head to laugh.

Uhura was sure of it this time. He was going to quit, and she began imagining the defeated look on his face as he sat down next to the communications officer. But no sooner did he sit did his expression bloom, and he looked to Sulu, who was beginning to look as if he would apologize.

"Ah ha, no you don't…thank you for the suggestion, but it seems like Christine isn't liking the poetry," Chekov bit into a piece of roast beef. "But tomorrow is to be the day – I can feel it in my Russian bones."

Uhura wanted to hug Chekov.

For being such a brave little soldier.

For not giving up.

* * *

_Day Six_

That day, no one really came to sit with the trio, and Scotty decided it was his turn to lend a bit of Scottish wisdom to the aspiring ladies man he had the pleasure of sitting with every night, for dinner. In fact, he owed the Russian at least a part of his experience – he'd lost five pounds of excessive weight over laughing merely at Chekov's failure to win over the girl, despite his silly and rather humorous endeavors.

"Alright, lad, here's where I tell ye yer goin' about this all wrong." Scotty waved an entire loaf of bread at the fervent little Russian, who was chewing his spaghetti and watching the Scot with wide, liquid eyes.

"Oh really?" Chekov persisted. "How do I do that wrong?"

"Ye listened to the likes of a Casanova, bad bunch of men they are, an emotionless elf who wouldn't know affection if it hit him in the face, a cynical doctor who told ye to say what he said to his wife after she opted fer divorce, and a helmsman who learned his charmin' skills off the world wide web! Now, who ye haven't listened to is me."

"And I'm sure you have so much expertise, Scotty…living on Delta Vega with your green midget for all those years. I'm surprised you haven't got a whole shipload of girls chasing after you with engagement rings and wedding vows." Uhura quipped casually, and Chekov gave a little giggle, muffled by the food currently stuck in his mouth. Uhura gently nudged the Russian, and received a playful nudge in return.

"Are ye two done, or can I teach the laddie how to _really_ woo a girl now?"

"Go on ahead, I'd love to see your methods in action, Mr. Scott," Uhura replied.

"Ye betch it, Lieutenant. And watch yer boy here get the girl all because of me."

"I'd like to put a bet on it."

"How much?"

"Ten pounds says your method fails."

"Over the queen's dead body it does," Scotty set his jaw hard and slapped his hand against the table. "Yer on, Miss Uhura!"

"Here she comes!" Chekov wailed, and turned to Scotty, urgency blotting his face with red flushes and flickers of haste. "Tell me what! Tell me what!"

"C'mere, lad.."Scotty wrenched the boy to him by the scruff of his black-collared shirt and began murmuring into his ear. Chekov's brow creased, and Uhura knew he was doubting the Scotsman's technique.

"Are you sure it'll work, Scotty?"

"I'd bet ten pounds and a dead queen on it!" Scotty replied smugly, and Chekov grabbed the glass of scotch from the engineer, and inhaled deeply before positioning himself before the girl. Uhura watched her face, for any sign of disgust or annoyance, but she remained impassive – almost as if she didn't see the Russian, expectant and eager, right in front of her.

"Excuse me, Christine, but would I interest you in a-"

But before the Ensign could finish his proposal, Christine yanked the scotch from his hands and poured it over the plethora of finely sculpted curls. A few of the surrounding crewman, ones not completely devoured by the sight of food, turned to watch the unfurling of the spectacle, and even laughed at Chekov as he dripped with foul-smelling booze.

Uhura retrieved a handful of napkins from the centerfold of the table and began mopping up the mess as Chekov sat down beside her. Scotty turned around, looking severely perplexed, and scratched the scalp beneath his loose-fitted beanie.

"Thank you, Nyota." Chekov peered up at the Lieutenant through thick, dark lashes, and Uhura was surprised by the use of her first name. Chekov had always called her Uhura, or Lieutenant…but never Nyota.

She was delighted by the sudden informality. "You're welcome Pavel. The pleasure's all mine…I never liked scotch much anyway."

And as she continued to wipe the amber beads of alcohol from the boy's sodden face, Uhura looked expectantly at the engineer, still looking obviously outwitted.

"So how about that dead queen, Mr. Scott?"

* * *

_Day Seven_

It was a Friday, which meant that, usually, Bones and Kirk would amble over and join the trio for a bit of informal catching up on conversation. Uhura was certain that, today, there would be no attempts to win the lovely, yet stubborn and unlikable Christine Chapel, but was surprised when Kirk, in his usual brazen self, popped the question in the midst of relaxed conversation.

"So, Chekov…" Kirk drew out the syllables of the foreign name. "You still pursuing that nurse of yours?"

"Of course I am…I will not give in until she gives in to me." Chekov gave a curt nod of his head and Uhura, amazed at the persistence of her friend, gazed unabashedly at the Russian as the boy slurped a long draught of chicken soup into his pouting, pink-fleshed mouth.

"You've got some brass balls the size of Texas, kid, if you're still thinking about going after her again," Bones shook his head. "She's been going off all week about the little Russian whelp that won't take no for an answer."

"I thought you said she liked it rough, Bones…" Kirk nudged his friend, and the spoonful of chicken soup Bones had been balancing in midair slopped over and onto his cobalt blue uniform shirt.

"God damnit, Jim!" He wiped furiously at his sleeve with a napkin he'd swiped from a blessedly quiet Scotty. "Watch what you're doing, would you? This is a bitch to clean!"

"Does anyone else got advice for me today?" Chekov announced, and Uhura saw that the inquiry after strategic interest was born of desperation in the midst of Bones' and Kirk's bickering – Christine Chapel had begun down the aisle way. But this time, she was not alone.

"I've got something for you, kid…come here…"Kirk leaned forward and, smiling deviously, planted little seeds into the young boy's innocent brain. Uhura wondered idly what Kirk had told him to do. But she realized she'd see soon enough as the boy rose and confronted the two chattering ladies, one of which smiling and waving at the adorable young Ensign and the other, which was to be expected, groaning and rolling her eyes.

"Move, you Russian runt!" Christine was about to shove Chekov out of her way before her companion stopped her.

"Is this the one that's been bothering you all week?" Inquired her friend.

"Yes. The little insect doesn't handle rejection very well, it seems."

"Aw, but he's so damn cute. C'mon, let's give him another chance."

"Alright, Rasputin – get it over with already."

"I have a few questions for you, Miss Chapel that I would like to ask for a survey." Chekov began, clasping his hands behind his back.

Christine and her friend leaned forward, not intending to miss one moment of this new technique.

"Is your muffin buttered?" Chekov asked innocently, ignoring the onslaught of raucous laughter erupting behind him.

Christine's jaw dropped in horror, but she quickly recovered from her stupefaction, even as her friend, expecting a naïve little boy more fit to be picking daisies for his mat back in Russian than resorting to double entendres to a girl at least five years older than him, dropped her jaw and stared shamelessly at the wide-eyed, adorable little creature standing innocently before him. With not even one clue as to what he'd just asked.

"Would you like me to assign to someone to butter your muffin?"

"What?!" Christine wailed.

"I could butter your muffin for you, if that's what you'd like?"

"You little pervert!" Christine shoved the boy, which resulted in Scotty's tray of soup being upset and tumbling to the floor, Chekov winding up bent unnaturally over the bench and suffering from a nasty blow to the head. Meanwhile, Scotty and Kirk were simply heaving with peals of laughter, with Bones trying to smother his own irreverent chuckles.

"I couldn't resist!" Kirk cackled, giving Scotty a high five. "That was just so damned classic!"

"Chekov are you alright?" Uhura asked softly as Chekov sat down indolently beside her. He lolled forward a little, but asked for some water, a sign of his competency.

And as Scotty and Kirk continued to snort over their trays, Uhura lifted her foot off the floor and stamped it as hard as she could on Scotty's unwary boot.

He stopped laughing immediately.

* * *

_Day Eight_

By Saturday, Chekov was rather bruised. He'd been slapped by Christine a few days before, but Uhura had lost count of what attempt it was, as they had long since passed the fifth, she was certain. And not only that, but an impressive lump had formed on the back of the Ensign's tender head, and Uhura was worried he'd try again – and again, and again and again.

But he had not yet been robbed of his good spirits and cheerful nature. In fact, Chekov was quite the opposite as he received Sulu and Spock, who'd cordially requested to sit with them. Even with his bruised cheek and swollen head, he was hospitable to the pair, and grinned warmly at Spock, who assessed Chekov doubtfully.

"Damn, Chekov…what happened to you? You look like you got in a bar brawl or something?" Sulu peered at the faltering bruises.

Scotty almost snickered. Almost.

Uhura dared him to.

"Love, it is a very hurtful thing!" Chekov said as he speared a carrot. "I have learned this."

"Still no luck, huh?" Sulu continued. Uhura hoped he'd stop…he couldn't bear to see her Pavel get shot down again.

Wait…_her_ Pavel? When had Chekov become _her_ Pavel?

"If I may, Ensign, I have logical explanations for your romantic endeavors that may prove useful."

Sulu appraised Spock with a censorious frown. "With all due respect, Commander. Logic is not very effective in the opinion of women. Romance is key. I'm telling you Chekov…stick to romance."

"Here she comes!" Chekov squeaked animatedly, his eyes as wide and round as saucers. And equally bright. "Hurry, quick, something! Anything!"

"Uh well, have you introduced yourself yet?" Sulu offered.

Chekov blinked, as if flabbergasted by such a simple concept. "Nyet."

"The initiation of a relationship, Ensign Chekov, relies primarily on introduction. Ensign Sulu's logic is sound; you should have completed this step first, before pursuing more complicated and disastrous results."

Sulu looked over his shoulder, and saw Christine walking down the walkway. Alone this time, which was good for Chekov.

But Uhura wanted to tell Chekov to stop. Not this time. She wanted to tell him that his eagerness was wasted on undesirable company, and that he should invest it elsewhere. Somewhere that it was enjoyed and proved inspiring.

Or perhaps, in someone else.

Before she could reach out and hinder the boy in his willingness to leap before Christine once again, who, by now, looked so unbelievably frustrated with the boy that she could explode from the all-consuming exasperation, his goldenrod uniform had slipped through her fingers. She had been too late.

"What?! What is it now?! What haven't you said to me that will make me positively absolutely without a doubt make me fall in love with you instead of wanting to rip your little curly crazy Russian head off and throw it into empty space?!"

Chekov blushed and lifted up a casual hand, waving softly. "Eh…hello," he coughed nervously. "My name is Pavel Andreievich Chekov."

Christine threw her hands up into the air and let out a feral scream, stomping away before she allowed her anger to get the best of her and wail on the poor kid, which would mean he would end up in Sickbay, and therefore in her care. And then she would never be left alone again.

"Well, that didn't go so well, did it?" Scotty's face began to crinkle with the coming of a laugh…

But before Uhura, glowering ferociously at the engineer, could reach out with her foot and stomp Scotty's bruised, swollen foot, he lifted it up onto the bench, and flashed a grin of achieved superior intelligence over the Lieutenant.

Uhura chucked a spork at him instead.

* * *

_Day Nine_

It was the ninth day, and already, Uhura could definitely say she'd had enough of the boy's diligence. At first, it was admirable. Then, inspiring. But as the girl's rejection grew more abrupt and cruel with each endeavor, she began to see it was hopeless.

Chekov remained undaunted.

A young girl joined them that day. She was a shy young thing that cast moony glances over at Scotty, who, unfortunately, was too busy slurping his scotch to take much notice of the pretty little creature. Chekov, however, was gracious in his accepting Janice Rand, who had introduced herself by name upon approaching the table of three, into the fold of the group.

She smiled warmly at him, her silent gratitude for the acknowledgement of her existence.

"So, I've caught wind that a certain little Russian navigator has a crush on a certain older nurse."

Chekov looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to tell him, and Uhura chuckled cordially, leaning into the boy's tightly coiled curls and whispering, "She's talking about you, Pavel."

His eyes seemed to flicker as realization flourished in their watery shade. "Oh! Da, I like her, I do. But she seems not to take liking for me…"Chekov's exuberant explanation tapered off and Uhura, hopeful, wondered if he had given up....before he had finished the sentence.

"_Yet_. Of course, I am going to continue to go after her! Newton's Laws command it!"

Uhura slumped to the table, her head banging against the cool, hard surface.

"Well, what used to work when I was at the Academy was passing notes," Janice continued coyly, folding her hands in her lap. "It got the boy's attention without me ever having to get up and talk to them. But I was shy back then, more so than now. Like you, right?"

Her blue eyes twinkled as she regarded Chekov, and he nodded furiously. "Of course! A note, that would capture her attention!"

He turned to Uhura, who was now lethargic and beaten against the cold metal table. "Lieutenant Uhura, a napkin, please?"

She passed the energetic Russian a napkin, and Chekov hurriedly wrote down a message to Christine, as he noticed her walking down the pathway. No sooner did she almost pass the table, Chekov leapt to his feet, scrunched the napkin into a ball, and it hit Christine Chapel squarely in the side of the head. He clapped a remorseful pair of hands over his mouth, eyes wide and bulging, more so than they'd ever been before, and Christine's glare was full to the brim with daggers.

She threw it back at him, shoved her nose into the air, scrunched her fists at her side, and stalked off. It seemed that Chekov's failures never got old to Scotty – he kept laughing and laughing, and Uhura was beginning to tire of the same old routine. Scotty laughs, she inflicts pain. It was rather boring, and she wished that Chekov would not be so arrogantly stubborn.

"Hmm," Janice considered the outcome of the situation. "Well, that's strange. Never happened to me before."

And as Kirk walked by, Janice's eyes grew starry, her lips parting in sheer admiration. "Who on Earth is that?" She crooned.

Uhura planted her face into the table. Would this ever end?

* * *

_Day Ten_

Scotty approached the table that day with information, on day ten, that made Uhura's heart nearly burst with relief.

"I heard poor Christine Chapel's in Sickbay. Had a bit of a nasty fall, the poor thing."

"Poor thing? Look what she did to Chekov!" Uhura countered, and gestured to the yellowing bruise on the young Ensign's face.

The boy looked up from his matzo ball soup, a request of his that the cook had obviously taken to heart, and cleared his throat as he prepared an answer.

"Da, well…tomorrow, she will not escape me so easily. Just you wait!" He promised, and buried himself into his soup again.

"Chekov, look…I know you like Christine but…I don't think she likes you in return," Uhura confessed softly, hoping not to hurt the boy's feelings. "And it doesn't look like she ever will. You understand, don't you?"

Chekov shot Uhura a withering look, and then smiled through the veil of graying pity. "Uhura, you are such a friend to me!"

He leapt into his friend's arms, and all Uhura could do was sigh and pat the young Russian's thin, finely muscled back.

* * *

_Day Eleven_

Uhura was positively horrified when she'd heard that Christine had been released from Sickbay so quickly. In fact, she had a mind to rush into the corridors, find her and give her a severe whipping before she even thought about showing her face in the Mess Hall again. Not when things had gone so smoothly the day before. No beatings, no laughing, no severe rejections of Christine's behalf and no plucky recuperation from Chekov. It had been normal – Uhura had actually enjoyed it.

Very much.

And perhaps a little more than she'd liked to have realized.

It was now Tuesday, and the second of the month, which meant everyone was off duty at the same time on the bridge and that they'd all be eating together. Bones, Janet (who was visibly mooning over an unsuspecting Kirk), Sulu, Spock and the Captain himself all sat down around the table, talking and joking mildly amongst one another. Uhura pouted beside Chekov – wishing she could have a normal conversation with her favorite Russian without the mentioning of that selfish, spiteful nurse again. She almost wanted to hit Chekov, just to knock some sense into the boy.

"Kid, you're not still chasing after wild horses, are you?" Bones noticed as Chekov searched the entrance to the mess hall expectantly.

Uhura groaned and her forehead smacked hard against the table.

"Lieutenant Uhura..that's not too good for developing brain cells, ye know!" Scotty said wryly. Uhura stayed put, afraid to look up and watch the spectacle that she knew was to unfold.

"Why yes…yes I am." Chekov announced proudly.

Uhura was the only one that sighed, and was tragically outnumbered by the enthusiastic masses.

Bones chewed quickly and pointed his fork at the boy. "Want my advice, kid? Ask her for a drink…"

"No, recite a poem to her again. A more intricate one…"

"No, no, you guys are getting it all wrong…you gotta be sly and seductive…give her another pick up line, like the one I gave you earlier, not the buttered muffin thing but...something she'll like…"

"You gotta be forward with her…aggressive. Women like aggressive. Trust me, I'm a doctor, not a – damnit Jim, get your elbow out of my soup!"

"Logic is the most fundamental concept and is universal. Attempt a medical conversation with her, as it is her practice and would interest her…"

"Something like Robert Frost, or Emily Dickinson…"

"Jim, your elbow!Now!"

"Write her another note…and this time, make sure she reads it!"

"A medical history would be most intriguing. Or perhaps inquiring after her most recently findings in cadavers or perhaps an undiscovered malady which interests all medical personell."

"Look, whiz-kid I've got so many pick up lines for you…you won't know where to start."

Chekov, overwhelmed by everyone talking at once, got up and decided he'd try for himself this time. He'd go up to her, tell her he was desperately in love with her like he'd planned all along, and go from there.

But unluckily for the boy, he had not noticed the hulking mass that had walked in beside his beloved Christine, and, before he could say one word, he was being throttled by enormous arms. A punch to the nose, to the mouth, square in his face, and then a hefty blow to the stomach. Chekov fell to his knees, the wind knocked out his lungs, and he sputtered, coughing heartily. A knee jerked upward, and a few profanities involving the word "Russian" and "bitch" were flung across the now quiet room. And Christine, who'd shot down Chekov so many times they'd lost count at five, was beating on her companion's back, screaming for him to stop.

Chekov was projected across the floor, and his breath left him in one incapacitating rush as he was thrust into the floor, fists colliding with his face. He was beginning to lose consciousness. But before the colossal man could deliver the final blow, one that would render the boy unconscious, a slight figure attacked the tall man, now hazy in light of Chekov's fading sight.

Not a sound came from them. All of them were astonished and Scotty didn't laugh for once in the span of eleven days. One would have thought someone had died but no…they were merely watching Chekov, blood spurting from his nose, his lip torn and his face beginning to bruise as he held his stomach on the floor, and Nyota Uhura…who'd leapt at the man, approximately four times her size and no less, and began tossing heavy punches, at least for her smaller, but capable fists, at the culprit.

No one hurt her Pasha like that. And her heart warmed, even in the midst of a fray, at the echoing sound the name Pasha gave off as it resounded across the inside of her preoccupied mind.

But Spock, the only one of the group who had remained calm in the face of the staggering situation, stepped forward and delivered one press of a forceful thumb to the hulking man's neck, and the room was filled with a sudden silence as Christine's companion dropped to the floor and everyone stared at the small Russian navigator and the lovely communications officer who'd rushed to his side as he lay motionless and bleeding on the floor.

"You stupid Russian! Why don't you listen to me? Is it because I'm a woman, huh?" She rattled him but, as she saw his eyes were glazed over and distant, she drew him to her, feeling his slowly thudding heartbeat resonate throughout her chest.

She pressed her friend close to her, and Bones alerted immediate transfer for Ensign Chekov to Sickbay as the boy slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Day Twelve_

For three nights, she sat there, waiting for the boy to regain his former composure. His curls were plastered to his pale, bruised face and, once he'd been settled and hooked to a biofunction monitor and his temperature taken by a tricorder, she merely listened to the constant humdrum sound of his heart beating on the monitor, cleaning the blood from his face with a wet washcloth. Her own face was bruised slightly, and she ached a little, but as Chekov's eyes opened, and he looked at her with a warming smile on his face, she forget all about her aches and bruises and cuts and pains. He was okay, and that's all that mattered to her.

But on the third day, he had seemed to brighten. "Lieutenant Uhura…you stayed with me, da?"

She smiled and a hand drifted softly over one plastered curl sticking to his forehead, freeing it from its sweaty prison. "Yes, I did…how are you feeling?"

"Like I hit myself into a truck!" Chekov moaned, putting a hand over his face. "Oi vey…oi vey…"

She looked at him once, and bit her lip as she deliberated what she wanted to do. It was worth it, she knew, but…would he think twice about it? Or reject it outwardly, before even giving it a chance?

"Pasha, try all your lines on me. All of them that you used on Christine…try them on me."

Confused at first, Chekov began to balk, but before he could speak, before he could part his lovely pink lips in protest, Uhura reached out and silenced him with her index finger. "Try it. Go on."

"Well, alright, if you wish it so…"He shrugged, and sat up slowly in his bed, wincing as he disturbed the sore parts of his body. ""Excuse me there, Miss Uhura. I couldn't help noticing how you are pretty, and hoped that maybe…"

"I'd love to." She answered, and Chekov's bright eyes grew effervescent in their fervor.

"I hope you have mastered the CPR, because you take my breath away."

She grinned and laughed in reply, and Chekov was encouraged on, reiterating the failed attempts in his head.

"Woman and man. Logic says that if attraction is in one, then there must be magnetic pull which drives man to woman. This means within woman, there is same magnetic pull. And the inertia, by man is being pulled, is equal to that of rejection of woman. This means that attraction is constant until I run out of ideas to woo you or you give up and succumb to my wooing. The first being impossible, you must relent, or inertia will catch you! This accords to Newton's First Law of Motion, or Law of Inertia."

"A very smart man, Pasha," she nudged him gently in the arm. "Just like you."

"You listen to me, girlie, and you listen good! I know you just trying to excuse away a good man like me, and it's not gonna work! I won't take nyet for an answer! You hear me, girlie? I say I won-"

This time, in which he was interrupted, he was not disregarded and coerced into silence. Instead, he was accepted, and Uhura pulled the small, bright-eyed creature toward her, pressing her lips to his. The warmth of his mouth was enticing, and it took all of her strength to break the kiss so he could continue down his list. He almost didn't persist, after that unexpected gesture, but she urged him to go on.

_Roses are red,  
Violets are blue,  
Honey is sweet,  
But not as sweet as you._

"Adorable…" Uhura reiterated the same word Chapel had used when she had reacted to the boy's sweet and short and innocent little poem. But as Chekov delved deep into the vastly different tone of the two diverse women's responses, his eyes glittered and, intrigued by her unexpected reaction, he went on.

He suddenly turned for the cup of water that had been left for him, and offered it to Uhura.

"Excuse me, Nyota, but would I interest you in a drink?"

"Yes, thank you…I would very much like a drink." She took the cup of water from him, and he prolonged the flourishing experiment, carrying on into the events of day seven.

But before he could speak, Uhura put a finger to his lips. "Let's skip day seven, shall we?"

Chekov looked confused at first, but was so enthused by the turn of events, that he simply carried on in his former wholehearted fashion.

He outstretched his hands, the animation apparent on his young, illuminated face. "Hello, I am Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov."

She wrung it twice, smiling graciously at the boy. "Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. Nice to meet you, Pavel."

And then, day nine. He looked around for a data slate and Uhura offered hers, putting it into his hands and he scrawled the stylus across the surface of the PADD. Coyly, with a blush that seemed hot enough to boil water, he handed the sleek mechanism to her, and she read the inscription there.

_I like you._

She chuckled and erased the words. "I like you too, Pavel."

And as she put away her data slate, she heard rustling in front of her, and the biofunction monitor's thumping sped up a little. She looked up to find Chekov wringing his hands nervously, looking up from beneath thick, dark lashes and a winding curl was swept across his pale forehead.

"Lieutenant Uhura…what was the purpose of that?"

She took his hand and scooted closer to the young, exuberant Russian. And as she watched his hands, their graceful pallor gleaming pearly beneath the white-washed lights, she said to him, "To tell you that you don't need fancy pick up lines and poetry and dirty jokes to capture a girl's attention. All you need to do is be yourself…"

"What is it are you saying, Lieutenant?" Chekov leaned forward, grimacing slightly as his bruised ribs collided with his knees. "Are you saying…?"

She didn't say anything. Instead, she pulled the boy's lips toward hers again, this time allowing her mouth to glide smoothly against his, her hands threaded deep into the glossy bronze whorls of his hair. He melted beneath her lips, sighing contently, and slid his own lips against hers, hesitantly bringing his hands to her face and cupping her deep russet cheek.

After a moment, she pulled away, her face mere inches away from his, and she nipped softly, once, at Chekov's reddened lips. "Is that an answer for you?"

He smiled and pulled her in for another kiss.

And if Pavel Chekov learned anything in the last twelve days of humiliation, pain and hopeless persistence….

It was that Christine Chapel, no matter how pretty, was not even worth it compared to Uhura.

No, not even close in comparison to _her_.

* * *

Author's Notes: I think I like putting these down here! It's convenient! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that...it took me fricken five and a half hours to write! It's now four am now and 8,281 words, 20 pages of Microsoft Word later...no wait...I started writing at eleven. Five and a half hours to write! GAH! I'm so tired. Anyway, I love Chekov/Uhura and liked this idea where Chekov gets shot down so many times he can't even remember all the attempts he's made. And then Uhura starting to like him...and not knowing it until later. Yay!

Enjoy! Reviews are, as always, welcomed. :D


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